The Culture Edit: Sept. 14

They brand themselves as “lifestyles” experts, but they’re really just shills for folks who believe they have the ability to drive sales. Spoiler alert: They don’t.

I’ve watched them wear clothes and jewelry they’d never consider under other circumstances, rave about food that looks passable at best, and offer a “10 out of 10” for theme park rides that don’t look remotely interesting.

After they’ve opened the stack of packages they’ve gotten from Amazon, the influencers like to track their “day.” It usually includes a coffee purchase, a visit to the gym and a GRWM (get ready with me) modeling moment that makes you question why they even agree to wear some of those dreadful clothes.

There’s always a “fragrance” burst (because those companies send gallons of their perfume to potential influencers) and a “fit check” to make sure they look sharp for a party at another company that will send them home with a bag full of products. Other influencers will troll there, too, and shoot hours of footage just to be able to document the time they’ve had at the gifting suite.

Years ago, companies sent samples to journalists to coax them to write stories. When that didn’t work, they moved to social media and posted anonymous praise for their products. When that got a lukewarm response, they looked to the influencers. Now, we’re in an era where these folks make money from their videos, brand deals from manufacturers and potential careers in reality television.

Lucrative? It can be. It’s a sweet life (or is that “suite”?) after all.